


Don't Let Your Heart Rule Your Head

by rhoen



Series: Uchiha Week 2018 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: Shisui returns from a mission burdened with regret.





	Don't Let Your Heart Rule Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, the dates for the event shifted and I didn't know so... Yeah. I haven't had a chance to go over this as much as I'd like. Huge thanks to my beta Kali for helping out!

Itachi is done for the day, about to head home with the armful of grocery shopping he needs for tonight’s meal, when he catches sight of Shisui’s team heading towards the Hokage Tower. The flutter of excitement and relief he feels only shows for the briefest of moments in an absent-minded smile, and then he remembers himself and lets the expression fall. His feet, when he starts walking, take him further from home.

If anyone thinks the sight of Uchiha Itachi loitering  by the Hokage Tower with an armful of groceries is an unusual sight, they thankfully don’t comment, and Itachi’s smile finds itself back in place as Shisui comes down the spiral staircase, the older Uchiha looking weary and worn from a two week long mission. He runs his fingers through his hair, no doubt planning on going home for a shower and a solid twelve hours of rest before doing anything more, and stops short when he catches sight Itachi leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

“Itachi!” he breathes, eyes going almost comically wide. The expression quickly softens into something a little more neutral, but he still seems dazed. “What are you doing here?”

With a shrug, Itachi readjusts the groceries he’s carrying. “I was on my way home when I saw your team was back. Can I cook for you tonight?”

“That…” Shisui hesitates, giving a sharp exhale. He seems torn. “That would be great, but you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Itachi insists, pleased to have Shisui back. He’s missed him.

“Okay,” Shisui agrees.

“My place or yours?”

“Yours,” Shisui says without hesitation. “Is it okay if I use your shower?”

“You know it is.”

Shisui gives a worn flicker of a smile, unable to hold it long. “You’re the best.”

“Come on,” Itachi says gently, starting to lead the way. With heavy feet, Shisui follows.

.

Ever since Itachi moved into his own, modest home there has been something of Shisui’s there. The items don’t stay long, and are never constant – weapons cleaning kits, the spare flak jacket Shisui had lent him, a forgotten bento box Shisui had taken two months to remember to collect – so all Itachi can pull from the cupboard that belongs to Shisui is a pair of sweatpants and a worn jumper that really ought to have been thrown away at least a year ago. Shisui is fond of it, though, and of its ‘loved’ appearance, so Itachi is by extension. The deep navy and white patterned thing doesn’t take up much space in the cupboard anyway, and Itachi rather likes having it there.

The rest of the outfit is made up from Itachi’s own clothes, and he takes the bundle to the bathroom. Unable to hear anything from inside, he hesitates a moment, listening, and then knocks.

“Shisui?”

A strained voice answers him. “Yeah?”

“Are you hurt?”

A pause, and then: “A little.”

“Let me help.”

Shisui opens the door without needing to unlock it. As far as Itachi can tell, it’s a Shisui thing to leave doors unlocked when they really ought to be secure. He would remind Shisui that such complacency invites trouble, but Shisui is an elite shinobi, and sometimes Itachi thinks he enjoys trouble.

“I brought clothes for you,” he says, finding a very topless Shisui already returning to the sink, twisting to try and see the damage on his back in the mirror. He’s bruised quite badly midway down his spine, and Itachi can’t help the sharp cut of concern that made him tighten his grip on the clothes. “Did the medic check that?”

“Yeah,” Shisui sighs, twisting the other way and wincing. “It’s just… cosmetic.”

Setting the clothes down next to the sink, Itachi moves behind Shisui. “Hold still,” he murmurs, already concentrating. He’s only trained in the most basic of medical ninjutsu, but after a moment he confirms for himself that what Shisui said is true: the damage that had been caused – no doubt a fractured vertebra – has already been healed.

There is something else, though; something a little off. Itachi can’t quite place it, but nor will he pry any further without consent. He slowly draws his hands away, wondering if Shisui is okay.

“Were you hurt anywhere else?”

There is a discernible pause before Shisui replies: “No, just there.”

Taking a step back, Itachi lets his hands fall to his sides. There’s is little else he can do to help now, other than ensure Shisui is clean, comfortable, and well-fed. “There’s salve in the cabinet, help yourself,” he encourages.

“Thanks,” Shisui breathes, sounding exhausted. He turns sharply when Itachi bends to collect his flak jacket and sweat-encrusted top from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to do laundry anyway,” Itachi lies. “I’ll wait outside. Pass me the rest.”

He isn’t sure why Shisui looks embarrassed.

“You’re too kind to me.”

Itachi gives him a smile, one he saves just for those closest to him. “Konoha’s finest deserves nothing but the best,” he says in teasing seriousness.

He expects Shisui to say something quick in return, and to appreciate his attempt at humour. He doesn’t expect him to dip his head, as if embarrassed, so that his growing curls partially obscure his face. The uncharacteristic reaction makes Itachi watch him a little closer, before deciding that Shisui must be far more exhausted than he lets on. The bruise must hurt a lot too. A shower, a meal, and some rest, and Itachi hopes he’ll be more himself again.

“The food will take forty-five minutes. Take your time,” Itachi says, a gentleness few know he can express softening his tone. He takes one more look at Shisui’s weary figure, before slipping from the room. A few seconds later he’s passed the rest of Shisui’s clothes through a crack in the door, and he retreats to the kitchen.

.

The meal will only take twenty minutes to prepare, but Itachi doesn’t have all the ingredients he needs. The moment the laundry is on he slips outside, returning seven minutes and twenty-two seconds later with sirloin steak, shitake mushrooms, and a tub of Shisui’s favourite ice cream. Shisui is, thankfully, still in the shower.

The ice cream put away, as well as the fish Itachi had originally intended to cook, Itachi loses himself in the soothing rhythm of preparing and cooking the food. He enjoys this, especially when cooking for someone he cares for, and he’s relaxed enough not to react when Shisui joins him.

“Is that…?” Shisui asks as he peers over Itachi’s shoulder, agape.

“Miso ramen with beef and mushrooms,” Itachi confirms.

Shisui gives a weary exhale, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Go sit down,” Itachi instructs. “I’ll bring it through when it’s ready.”

“Itachi…” Shisui complains.

Half turning towards him, Itachi reaches out and gave him a little push, his fingers disappearing in the softness of Shisui’s jumper and feeling the warmth radiating from his body. “Go.”

Feet dragging a little, Shisui goes.

He seems to be sleeping when Itachi finds him on the sofa just five minutes later. Itachi hesitates, watching the loose, pleasant lines of Shisui’s relaxed body for a moment, and then moves closer.

“Wake up,” he says.

“’M not ‘sleep,” comes the answering murmur.

A whole ten seconds pass with no further reaction. “Shisui?”

Shisui lets out a tired sigh – it seems he was asleep after all – and sits up. He usually has something to say when Itachi feeds him, but this time he’s quiet as he accepts the bowl of food. Itachi lets it go, taking a careful seat beside him.

They eat in silence, Itachi becoming increasingly aware of how uncharacteristic Shisui’s withdrawn mood is with every second that passes. Even when exhausted the other young man has plenty to say. It’s not the same without his idle chatter. Shisui seems weighed down by more than weariness, and Itachi begins to worry what he might have endured on his mission.

“I have ice cream,” Itachi announces when they were both done, reaching over to take the empty bowl from Shisui’s lax hands.

“No, thank you.”

That’s too much for Itachi to take. The dishes gathered on his lap, he turns towards Shisui, needing to know what’s going on. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” comes the too-quick answer.

Itachi stares, watching as Shisui refuses to meet his gaze, and is about to protest the answer when Shisui breaks the growing silence.

“Is there something you regret?”

The odd question catches Itachi off-guard, and he frowns a little as he thinks. “What do you mean?”

Shisui doesn’t elaborate.

“Shisui, what happened?”

Again, there’s no answer. Itachi’s uneasiness grows at Shisui’s continued silence, and the heavy weight of something he can’t interpret hanging over him. He discards the dishes on the floor.

“I’m here,” he reminds Shisui, shifting his body language to make it as open and nonthreatening as possible. “I’ll listen if you need to talk, but, if not, please tell me what I can do to help.”

Shisui gives a minute shake of his head, keeping his gaze averted. “I…” he begins, never finishing the thought.

Itachi waits. He tries not to guess what could have happened, but, remembering the subtle dissonance he’d felt in Shisui, he can’t help assuming something had disrupted Shisui’s chakra, most likely genjutsu. It’s fine now. If anything were truly wrong, Shisui would surely admit as much.

At last, Shisui finds his voice. “I loved someone once,” he says, his tone listless.

Trying to ignore the tight, twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach, Itachi responds to the strange starter with a degree of hesitance. “You don’t love them anymore?”

Shisui gives a sad, weary smile, looking at Itachi’s knee. “I’m Uchiha. I’ll always love them.”

Itachi doesn’t nod, but he understands exactly what Shisui is saying. It’s something all Uchiha are burdened with. Their capacity for love, and for hate, go far beyond what others feel. It is, more often than not, a curse.

“Do they know? Do you want tell them?”

Shisui, now studying his own fingers intently, shakes his head. “It’s too late now.”

Itachi is almost afraid to ask, and he wonders how he’d never known about his closest, if not only, friend’s love. A piece of himself feels missing. “They died?”

“No, they just… They’re not suitable. Or, rather, I’m not suitable for them.”

“I can’t imagine you being unsuitable for anybody,” Itachi says, honest in his support and trying to think of reasons why anyone ever object to Shisui’s affection. He’s the kindest, most loyal person Itachi knows. “Unless, of course, their family or clan would disapprove, or they are already love someone else.”

“Itachi,” Shisui says in warning.

Realising he’s gone too far, Itachi backtracks. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I shouldn’t pry.”

Shisui sags under the weight of whatever it is bearing down on him, seeming to give up the fight.

“I decided years ago I wouldn’t tell them,” he explains. “There was a moment when I wanted to, and so nearly did, but I knew it would be the wrong thing to do. I came so close, though, so close…”

Itachi holds his tongue, giving Shisui room to speak and trying to quiet his heart. He’s only heard Shisui sounding so bereft once before, when he told Itachi how he got his Mangekyou Sharingan.

“It hurt,” Shisui continues. “It still hurts: loving them, knowing them, every day keeping it a secret… What I feel for them is the best and the worst thing in my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Only, I would. And that’s what I regret.”

His earlier question makes a little more sense, and Itachi has the presence of mind to wait, allowing Shisui to draw together what strength he needs, swallowing with clear difficulty.

“I didn’t take a chance. I didn’t… And now there’s this image in my head of what my life would be like if I’d been brave enough to make that leap, and to go for it when every tiny little piece of me was begging me to but my mind was screaming ‘no’.”

“You regret letting your head rule your heart?” Itachi clarifies when it becomes clear Shisui is done.

“Yeah,” Shisui breathes, the word trembling with the racing of his pulse.

The idea of Shisui with anybody – loving them, living with them, starting a family with them – is so alien to Itachi he’s having an inordinately hard time imagining it. Something within him just can’t, or doesn’t want to, consider it. He’s never noticed Shisui showing an interest in anybody before. To Itachi, it hadn’t seemed that sort of thing was important to Shisui. He’s startled to find himself so wrong.

“Is it really too late?” he asks, pushing aside his own inexplicable unease to try and help Shisui find some peace.

“Yeah.”

“How can you be so sure?” Itachi challenges, even if a little sadly. He knows Shisui. He knows that, like him, Shisui will have considered it from all possible angles. The head has to rule over the heart.

“There’s too much to lose.”

“Even if they accept you?”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” Shisui mutters, the self-depreciation startling. His voice takes on a bitter, challenging note. “What if it was Sasuke?”

“Sasuke…?” Itachi echoes, taken aback by the suggestion. Something hits him squarely in the chest: something he can’t think about and tries to shove aside. “Well, he’s eight years younger than you,” he says, stating the facts first. “And the clan would no doubt object to a male-male union.” The next words are strangely difficult to voice. “But, if it was him, you’d have my support. I meant what I said: I can’t imagine you being unsuitable for anyone. You’re a good man. You’d take care of him, you’d do right by him and make sure he’s happy. He deserves someone like you.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look so unhappy?”

Caught, Itachi looks down at his knee, unable to explain himself. “Is it Sasuke?”

“No,” Shisui says with a truthful firmness. “It’s not.”

“Okay,” Itachi breathes, wondering when the ground had fallen away from beneath him. Hoping Shisui doesn’t notice his unsteadiness, he bends down and retrieves the dishes, needing to put some distance between himself and Shisui. “Are you sure you don’t want that ice cream?”

“I’m sure.”

He makes his way to the kitchen alone, his breathing shaky and hands trembling as he rinses the bowls. Unable to explain his reaction, Itachi shakes his head, trying to dismiss it and ignore the stinging in his eyes he has to blink back. He wants to help Shisui, he wants to see him happy, he wants to see him with the one he loves, even though, up until fifteen minutes ago, he had no idea someone like that existed.

The washing machine is finished. Itachi sets the laundry basket in front of it and pulls Shisui’s clothes from inside, fighting a wrongness inside his chest he knows he has no right to feel.

“Itachi?”

He stills, his grip tight on the basket.

“I thought you said you were doing laundry anyway.”

It doesn’t sound like what Shisui had intended to say, but, caught, Itachi gives a tense, dismissive shrug as he stands and moves towards the dryer.

“I don’t mind,” he says, because he doesn’t. He’s never minded. Shisui can come to him every day with his clothes covered in the enemy’s blood and viscera, and Itachi will clean them every time. He will always cook Shisui’s favourite meal and ensure he has his horrible dairy dessert, and Shisui can use Itachi’s always-hot shower and help himself to Itachi’s clothes any time he wants.

The wrongness within him makes sense when, in that moment, Itachi realises he wants to be the person Shisui loves.

He wonders how he’s managed to live so long without realising that he, in his own quiet yet fierce way, loves Shisui.

The revelation should be more startling than it is, but somehow he’s always known; it was just that he’d never been directly confronted by it before. There had been no reason to consider the painful idea that Shisui would fall in love with someone and drift away. Confronted with it now, Itachi knows he’s helpless. He will do everything within his power to ensure Shisui’s happiness, including sacrificing his own.

“Excuse me,” he pleads, trying to move past Shisui and remember how to breathe.

“Itachi,” Shisui calls out, catching his upper arm and not letting go. Itachi glances at the strong hand gently holding him in place, and then up at Shisui.

His heart twists as their eyes meet, a pain he can’t quantify gripping him. He loves Shisui. He loves Shisui so much. Everything about him calls out to Itachi, drawing him in and making him long to give more than he possesses. If Shisui would let him, he would try to give it anyway. The kind, strong, handsome man standing just a hair’s breadth from him, breathing laboured and gaze earnest, deserves nothing less than all the happiness in the world.

“It’s not Sasuke,” Shisui repeats.

“I know,” Itachi tells him, pulling easily from Shisui’s grasp when he fears that the things he longs for are written across his face. “I believe you.”

He feels Shisui follow him, and lets his hair hide his face as he carefully bundles Shisui’s things into the dryer.

“Whoever they are,” he continues, setting the programme and starting the machine, “and I mean whoever – if you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll help.”

“Itachi…”

The pleading sound of his name amounts to nothing, and Itachi pushes past Shisui with ease when he realises Shisui is going to say nothing more, fingers sinking into the soft jumper Itachi loves almost as much as the man wearing it. He takes a spoon from the drawer and the ice cream from the freezer, pressing both into Shisui’s lax hands.

“I know you love it. Go on. Eat it. I got it for you.”

He turns away to deal with the suddenly important task of finishing the dishes, and finds his wrist caught.

“Shisui?”

“I…” Shisui breathes, eyes frantic in their search of Itachi’s face. “I can’t do this. I can’t…”

He seems about to fall apart, as if the desperation with which he holds onto Itachi’s wrist is the only thing that keeps him anchored. The intensity of it leaves Itachi breathless.

“Shisui?”

“Can I have one minute? Just one minute? Please?” Shisui begs.

“One minute? Of what?”

Shisui’s eyes falls closed, his expression pained, creased with anguish.

“It’s you,” he whispers, his words making no sense at all in that moment as they ghost over Itachi’s skin. “I love you.”

“You…?” Itachi dares to question, disbelieving. He takes in Shisui’s unhappy expression, the pained lines etched on his face that have no business being there, and the way Shisui trembles. The words still don’t seem real, their meaning lost somewhere between Itachi hearing them and comprehending them.

Itachi’s head has no rule over his heart whatsoever as he breaks, bringing his hand up to caress Shisui’s cheek, touching him in a way he never dared to imagine doing. Shisui’s skin is soft, the scent of Itachi’s shaving foam stirring in the close space between them, and Shisui shivers, his mouth downturned.

“Only a minute?”

Shisui’s eyes snap open at that, his startled gaze fixing on Itachi, questioning.

“I would give you my lifetime,” Itachi murmurs, letting his fingers push into Shisui’s damp, curly hair. “If you would have me.”

The gasp of astonishment is the only answer he receives, before Shisui accepts his offer, closing the distance between them, for good.

**Author's Note:**

> I though I had another month before this event, and actually haven't written anything else for this yet, so please forgive me if I'm late with the rest of the days!


End file.
